


Pomegranate

by RobertSaysThis



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (1963), Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: /r/FanFiction Challenge, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Be Afraid Universe, Childhood, Flash Fic, Gen, Pomegranates, This is set before Shape of the Dalek if you care about that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-05
Updated: 2019-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:40:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21684469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RobertSaysThis/pseuds/RobertSaysThis
Summary: A very brief scene from Chris Sillars's life based on the seasons, for a r/fanfiction thread about original characters we have made.
Kudos: 2





	Pomegranate

It’s autumn then it’s summer, then spring then it’s autumn again. The seasons are strange when you happen to travel in time. Sometimes the Doctor lands in places that have other seasons, and then it’s even harder to keep track.

But still, Chris Sillars does. She has an app on her phone. Downloaded articles that a ten-year-old can understand, as well as a few that she shouldn’t. Plotting the age she _really_ is, whatever the calendar says. She’s been ten for much longer than an adult could ever know. But there’s not a lot of time left until she’s not.

The leaves in the TARDIS turn orange then umber then green. Briefly the sky flashes pomegranate, the colour of suns when they die. Hesitantly, she asks the Doctor what’s wrong. She replies with something silly and a smile. Chris knows she’s lying, and knows better than to say.

But it’s not the leaves that she’s thinking about, not now. It’s how soon it is, knowing it’s going to be soon. She knows that mum can’t afford to buy too many presents. She doesn’t want to think about whatever the Doctor might give. But it’s not about what she might get— how could it be, when she’s in a place like this? She can go anywhere in space and time, but that’s not what excites her, not really. It’s the fact that events are still special, the knowing that this one is hers. The world is strange and dark and full of horrors, but there is still magic, because she is still a child. And no matter what day it turns out to be on, there’s nothing in the universe as good as an eleventh birthday.


End file.
